The Sucky Life Of Thomas Crow by Phillip Stanley II by Phillip Stanley II - Read Online

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The Sucky Life Of Thomas Crow - Phillip Stanley II

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THE SUCKY LIFE OF THOMAS CROW

by

Phillip Stanley II

TORRID BOOKS

www.torridbooks.com

Published by

TORRID BOOKS

www.torridbooks.com

An Imprint of Whiskey Creek Press LLC

Whiskey Creek Press

PO Box 51052

Casper, WY 82605-1052

Copyright Ó 2013 by Phillip Stanley II

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

ISBN 978-1-61160-708-6

Credits

Cover Artist: Gemini Judson

Editor: Jeremy Tyler

Printed in the United States of America

Dedication

For my brother Christopher—a dark gift.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prologue: The Black Van

Chapter One: The Ultra-Fantastic Jet Slater

Chapter Two: Failure At The Water Cooler

Chapter Three: Phuk-Yu’s Doesn’t Deliver

Chapter Four: Hooker Row

Chapter Five: Screwed-Over—Hard!

Chapter Six: She’s Japanese-American You Idiot!

Chapter Seven: Hooker Row Revisited

Chapter Eight: Home Sweet Hell

Chapter Nine: The Lair of Maud

Chapter Ten: Diet Soda and Ice Cream

Chapter Eleven: Are You Just Stalking Me?

Chapter Twelve: Dulcie Maze

Chapter Thirteen: AB Negative

Epilogue: Jet Slater’s Bad Day

Prologue

The Black Van

In a dark parking lot sat a black van. Although the parking lot had been empty for hours, the driver took great care as to park his vehicle well beyond the radiance of the nearby streetlights. The vans windows were fogged, completely obscured by the steamy breath of the occupants within.

Thomas Crow, a white and thin, balding man of middle age, relaxed in the back seat as a beautiful girl moved to her knees and went down on him. His avaricious smile widened as her soft lips parted and engulfed his manhood in a sensation of pure delight.

Oh my God! Thomas groaned.

The girl didn’t respond; she simply continued with her work—it was work after all. You see, for the very first time in his life Thomas Crow did something wild, crazy, and completely out of character—he picked up a prostitute, a fifty-dollar prostitute.

Thomas shut his eyes and ran his hand through the girl’s red hair, not a natural red, but the kind of bright-red one would see on a child’s fashion doll—definitely  a dye job. Thomas loved her hair, though. That, along with her pale skin, gave the girl a goth-like allure that appealed to him.

Thomas’s body suddenly jolted as he felt a slight pinch on his male part.

Sorry, babe—just a little love bite. The girl spoke through a mouthful—well, half a mouthful anyway.

As the girl continued to pleasure him with a talented and writhing tongue, Thomas’s thoughts drifted to the series of events that led up to this wondrously erotic moment—the most erotic moment of his entire sucky life.

Chapter 1

The Ultra-Fantastic Jet Slater

At seven in the morning, Thomas’s Crow’s blood-shot eyes snapped open—he was still in bed. It wasn’t an alarm clock that had awoken Thomas; instead he’d been wrenched from sleep by the trumpeting noise of a great fart, a fart that bellowed from the great big ass of his great big six-hundred and seventy-pound wife. Long-winded and noisome, it was the kind of fart that only a dinner of cheesy bean soup and no less than five egg salad sandwiches could induce.

As he lay quietly upon the small portion of the king-sized bed allotted to him, Thomas could not discern which was worse; the befouled fart-laced air, or the rancid odor of his wife’s long unbathed body.

With his flared nostrils offended, Thomas winced in disgust and quietly slipped out of bed. He gathered his clothing and tip-toed to the bathroom, ever careful, so as not to awaken the slumbering behemoth whose bulk